


Predator

by NormalHumanBean



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: CRONCH, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NormalHumanBean/pseuds/NormalHumanBean
Summary: A predator does not concern himself with things such as music, or shows, or money. He needs no reason to go on a hunt. To hunt is a reason in itself. And there is only one prey in his world of predators.(A look into the mind of Freddy Fazbear in Ultimate Custom Night.)





	Predator

As always, he wakes to silence. It's a moment of peace before it's time to get to work. To take everything in before going on a mission. The moment is always too brief. Far too brief. That is what he does it for. So that moment can last longer. Forever maybe. But is it really what he does it for? He doesn't know, nor does he care. He doesn't need to know or care about reasons anymore. Predators do not concern themselves with why they hunt their prey. It is an instinct. To hunt is a reason in itself. He hunts to hunt. But there is only one prey that lurks within the world he lives in. Only one prize grand enough for Freddy Fazbear.

The creaking and clanging of movement begins. So noisy. Not that he has any right to judge. His movements are just as full of sound as the others. He wonders for a split second if there would be some way to change it so he could move more silently. But it doesn't matter. Time that is not spent hunting the prey is time wasted. Freddy Fazbear does not waste time. Time is the enemy for everyone in his world. But it is an ally as well. How fickle. But it does not matter. He needs to wake the others. Heavy sleepers are obstructive to the goal. He will check up on everyone eventually, but the ones he knows will be sleeping are a priority right now.

His two longtime partners will be first. Alone they are not threatening, but together, they are very helpful to the goal. Their eye lights flicker on quickly after a quick tap on the shoulder. Good. Foxy the Pirate grumbles something about never getting enough attention, then paces around the cove. Bonnie the Bunny stays wrapped around the curtains. He shoots Freddy a look. When do we get the new stage. Freddy motions that it will be soon, and Bonnie seems content with that answer. The truth is, the stage is never coming. Nothing ever changes in his world. Besides, Bonnie is much more useful in the cove with Foxy, where he can disable the cameras. If he was on the stage, he would be content. Contentment is only something a predator can experience when they kill their prey. Bonnie is not a very good predator. He might not even be a predator at all, Freddy thinks. But that does not matter. For now, there are other things to attend to.

The Funtime Foxy is next. He has his own stage. Freddy thinks it is because he is the best predator in his world. Besides himself, of course. Funtime Foxy pokes out of his curtains. She is already awake. That saves Freddy some work. Then again, he rarely ever has to wake the pink fox up. The pink fox is a good hunter, like him. "OHO!" the fox shouts. The fox is loud, but it does not harm his hunting. Then again, she's so quick that he doesn't need to worry about sound. "THE SHOW IS COMING UP! THE BIRTHDAY BOY NEEDS TO BE HERE ON THE DOT!" the fox yells. Freddy gathers what the fox was intending. She wants him to tell him to arrive at his show at 1 AM, as it says on his sign. He gives the performer a thumbs up. Static crackles in excitement as the fox rushes back in his stage. It's a lie. Freddy will not speak to him. He is prey. But he'll let the fox believe whatever he wants to believe. The fox doesn't need to know what will hurt him. But Freddy will keep a reminder to know when 1 AM comes. Just in case. 

Moving on to the kitchen, there are more to check on. His other two partners. Chica the Chicken is tapping her foot to the sound of the music box. The tapping screechy and metallic, but it does nothing to hamper her enjoyment of the song. In the corner, the music box lays sleeping, with the Marionette inside, at peace. Both are content. How terrible. Do they not even care about the prey? As horrible as they are, when discontented they are valuable allies. Doors do not stop them. Lights do not stop them. They are unstoppable killing machines. When they aren't lazing about to music. How disgraceful. 

Freddy motions his frustrations to the chicken. She looks up at him, confused. Apparently she only just noticed his presence. Ugh. He angrily repeats the motions and the chicken, distracted, notices a mouse scurrying. A potential prey, perhaps? Maybe she is honing her skill before taking on a more challenging foe? How unusually crafty of her. Much to Freddy's dismay, Chica wants to make friends with the mouse, rather than hunt it. Such an awful predator. A disgrace to her kind. But still, she has been with Freddy since the beginning. He cannot fault the chicken for being a good friend, as unimportant as friendship is to a predator such as himself. He leaves the kitchen in a bad mood. Chica is too easily distracted and the marionette never listens to him anyway. Oh well. A bad mood can easily be placed on him instead, making the catharsis of the kill all the sweeter.

It is a good time, he decides, to go try his luck at catching the prey. There is never a bad time of course, but it's good to optimize your chances. A chuckle escapes his jaw. A mistake. It is a small mistake, but he is very good at catching those small mistakes. This may not be the best time after all. But he has already committed to the hunt. To turn back now would be to show, to confirm that he made a mistake. Freddy absolutely cannot have that. 

Slowly, as quietly as he can, he creeps over to the door. There is no one else in the hallway to ruin his chance. He steps, heel softly placed first, then slowly shifting to place his whole foot on the ground. The less amount of sound made the better. At this point in Freddy's life, his predatory skill has been honed to an art. The cameras are old, and do not differentiate darkt hings well. Therefore, hiding in the dark is optimal. The cameras all have blind spots, so hide there if darkness is unavailable. He cannot check everywhere at once. He's fast, but not omniscient. If enough is happening, he can slip in without notice. A blip happens in his mind. It's one in the morning. He has to check on the fox if he wants to live. Its the perfect time to enter. But he needs to be quick. As fast as he can while still being quiet. A step and another and...

He's in.

The clacks and clicks of his old computer are the first thing he hears. He is not aware that Freddy is in the room. Good. He takes the chance to slip into the corner of the room, and observes. He may not see this room for a very long time, after all. Might as well relearn the layout. There are others in the room with him, but they are not taking the prime opportunity they have. The goblin is inactive. The other him is inactive. The musician is inactive. Disgraceful, all of them. For a brief moment, his most notorious doppelganger is there. The Golden Freddy. A good hunter, only held back by his own whims. Such a shame. There's no way to tell that he takes a glance at Freddy, but he knows anyway. The mimic has something about him that lets you know when he's looking at you. It's good at causing paranoia on the prey. He looks at Freddy. The question is clear. Are you going to do it? Freddy gives a thumbs up. Acknowledging the response, Golden Freddy disappears. The respect in his chassis lingers, before he moves in to begin.

The Nightmarrione fades in, causing more problems for him. Good, Freddy thinks. A distraction never hurts. He takes the opportunity to creep behind him, until he is standing right against his back, but not quite touching it. His desk is cluttered. The fan is off. All he would have to do is quickly snap his neck and it would be over. But there would be no pleasure in that. He needs to make it a kill to remember. One to go with his greats. Ideas flood into his mind. The classic 'shove prey into a naked suit' comes to mind. A good one, but this one needs to be special. He could crack open the musician's jaw and forcibly make that layabout crunch his skull until it's nothing but shards. But it would not be his own kill then. It's not a bad idea on it's own but... On it's own. On his own. Yes, perfect. All he needs now is to initiate the plot. But he needs to do it fast. The longer he takes, the more likely someone will rush in and steal his thunder. So he acts.

Grabbing his arms, he pulls his prey towards him until he is up against Freddy's refurbished belly, knocking over the chair. The prey turns his head toward him, gaunt face filled with fear. Sweat is on his brow, pupils shruken to a mere point, surrounded by swirling silver. He screams. Freddy screams back louder and throws him on the floor. Before he can scramble away like the slippery eel he is, Freddy stomps on his back to pin him. Crack. The weight of his foot is enough to break his spine, legs no longer connected to the brain, and therefore, not usuable. The prey howls in pain, and Freddy takes the chance to take his foot off and use the other one to stomp on his arm, breaking it as well. Another pained howl. He takes his foot off and walks over to his last functional limb. It shatters with a satisfying crunch. He is crying now, tears leaking from a pale face. And now the moment of truth. Freddy lifts up the prey by his shoulders, limbs lying uselessly to his sides. He brings the prey's head to his jaw, mouth opening in preparation. Tears are falling inside his jaw.

Freddy snaps his jaw shut.

Immediately, the crunch is a lovely sound, the blood spurting from his crunched skull. The brain squeezes and squelches inside his maw, pieces getting caught in his teeth. The blood is falling everywhere, staining him with marks of victory. Lifting his jaw, Freddy takes a moment to look at his victim's face. Pieces of bone jut out from where he was bitten, blood wet on his disfigured face. Freddy tosses the fallen prey to the ground. After all, he has no use for trophies. The memory is a trophy itself. After a thump as the corpse falls, it is silent in his world. No more mechanical whirring, no more clanging or creaking, no more shouting from his fellow predators. Just quiet.

Freddy is content, for just a moment that feels like an eternity. It's still too short.

And again, he wakes. And that contentment fades away as quickly as it came. But Freddy Fazbear is not upset that it goes away. He knows it will be back the next time.

And the time after that.

And again.

And again.

And again.

For a predator such as himself, going on an eternal hunt brings an even greater contentment than anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this at one am how coincidental.  
> i had this idea in my brain forever so im finally just now writing it and sharing it with the world.


End file.
